in crime …
wrong site, my bad.
in crime …
wrong site, my bad.
there will be a lot of ‘unfolding’ in the next few days, maybe weeks, knowing my long winded way of getting to things … there’ll be morbid poetry (er-hem, I mean, More, morbid poetry) ramblings and raging and/or morose music. i’ll be pausing the happy little daily photographs for awhile. They’re not doing it for Me.
i need to get Me sorted and this is the best way i know how. best and easiest, since there aint no cunt to help with this lot.
thanks to Bethany, i’ll be trying the mindfulness tip, but edited for Me’s use 😉
and thanks to the ever faithful Jim, i’ll be trying some serious gardening. Trying, being the key word here 😉
at this stage, i know theres the impending anniversary of my sisters death. and all i know is somewhere after that, i got lost. i’m enjoying blaming my father for that, but it aint entirely his fault. the fault is mine, as in i let him encroach on my space. but i’ma rolling with blaming his rotten ass at the moment.
somewhere after june, i lost touch with managing Me. thats the last time i can remember being aware i was going into a panic and being able to stop it before it happened. by august i was kacked out and fumbling with the grounding process.
i had had 2 ‘run ins’ with my father by then and was feeling like shit, which also annoyed Me no end. by september i’d cut that bastard off.
ACC and 2 large ass panic attacks, a huge bout of vertigo and a months worth of ‘sickness’, and i’m thinking, WTF is happening to Me?
Oh, and add to that the Tears. Fuckssake … I hate tears. i also hate thinking its hormonal, cause hormones are always to blame for a womans tears. these are angry hurt tears; fuck the hormones i say.
last night i got my exhibition pieces back. and with it came a host of compliments, of which i am humbled and grateful for.
also, there was this comment, said with an oozing nasty tone:
‘make you feel better did it?’
and that was enough to shatter what ever esteem and good vibes i had inside.
what pisses Me, is that that one comment was enough to floor Me. a year ago i would’ve brushed it aside. today … it’s echoing in my head.
it’s not the first time in my life i’ve been met with this sort of negativity, and by in large, i’ve culled most of those peeps. but i think in the culling process, i haven’t replaced them with ‘good for the soul’ peeps.
and i think in my new mish, this is what i need to do. not that i don’t love my blogging backup peeps … but i need peeps i can see now. peeps that can help encourage Me and keep Me grounded.
so thats enough rambling for now.
i’m off to cull 😉
+223. Ahhh yes 🙂
We were BFFs.
Someone like me;
with someone like you.
You had everything
that a young girl should have.
well I had,
But we hung.
Camping, talking, giggling.
Until you groped me.
i knew what you wanted.
It’s what they always wanted.
I wanted a friend.
Just a friend.
A nice friend.
For fucks sakes.
So we were friends no more.
And I don’t know
if you ever ‘came out’.
But theres a smidgey part of me,
Thats hopes you are still
In your closet.
Surrounded by people
That won’t let you
And your suffocating,
In your forced
Sweet fuck all
First Published on: Jul 7, 2015 @ 19:06 ❤
Now, I know you remember Me.
The little girl
The little girl you were jealous of,
Or so you said.
In the pathetic meeting
You called between my mother
You said I was beautiful.
But that was not meant as a compliment.
You said it because;
You tormented my already wretched existence.
Was it because you had bucked teeth?
Did that make you think you could belittle mine?
Was it your unfortunate looking family?
That made you think you could turn
Every decent friend I made
Was it because you were made
To wear poxy out of season clothes?
That you thought you had the right
To make my hand made clothes
The laughing stock of your churchy click?
Was it because you were fat?
That you thought you then had the right to criticise
What you didnt get,
Was my character
Didnt see all those things.
I enjoyed bike riding with you.
I enjoyed our picnics
So on and fucking so forth.
I enjoyed that shit.
I know your type now.
I can smell your stench a mile away.
So i let you go of you and yours,
First Published on: Jul 6, 2015 @ 18:30 ❤
+200. Yep 🙂
+198. LOL … I have a beautiful handful of like minded souls, that I couldn’t do without 🙂
As I’ve said, these years are a bit of a blurr…and the order of them is a bit shit. But continuing with my drinking career and then trying to study at University in 1998, by the time 1999 rolled around, it was all starting to wear off…and I was getting tired of it.
I hadn’t thought I would…as in, I loved drinking. My diet consisted of pies, coffee and alcohol. Mainly beer and bourbon…but I wasn’t fussy. My Grandfather made a mean home-brew and I’d drink that with a handful of pills…it was always enough to send me on my way. When I was drunk I felt happy…and me and happy hadn’t really resided in the same place for any length of time. I understood that it was a ‘false’ happiness, but I didn’t really care…it was happiness and I wanted to soak it up for as long as possible.
And how I drank…was enjoyable…most of the time. It had its glitches…but there was a huge sense of community and belonging that I hadn’t felt anywhere else. Even with the critters. We’d sing and drink and sing some more…and dance. It’s a shame that we didn’t know how to do that any other way.
This part of it all…I don’t regret. It taught me something about the fabric of my humanity, my culture…that I wouldn’t have learnt any other place. I don’t mean the ‘Once Were Warriors’ steez, I mean…
In the Maori language its called whanaungatanga, or manaakitanga. It’s hospitality and welcoming, but more than that. It’s a feeling of family and love and warmth and belonging and being alright and comfort…that’s really hard to describe…you can feel it in your belly…your heart. And I hadn’t felt that anywhere else before. I loved it.
But the other thing with drinking that amount is you forget…lots of stuff. One day blurs into another…one month turns into a year and before you know it your turning 27..ish, I think 😉
And when I’m over something…I’m over it.
I started extracting myself from my ‘drinking friends’ and cutting down on the amount I went out…at first from 6 nights to 4. And it was bloody hard. Being sober is…well its boring. It’s noisy.
But I tried to keep up my normal things…turns there was too many of those. All my time had been taken up with drinking.
This was probably the first time I really recognized that I was anxious. I didn’t like people…well being around them. Being drunk was one thing…being sober…not cool.
To my surprise…NOT…my ‘friends’ started dropping away. They didn’t come round to hang out if they knew there was no piss involved. Drop kicks. But that was to be expected I guess. Those that I had a genuine connection with, they remained. When I say they… I mean 3 of them lol.
I had pissed quite of few peeps off over the last few years and I felt this nagging thing, to try to make amends, where I could anyway. Didn’t go so well…think I ended up with a few hidings…but oh well.
I was also doing part-time work for a government Child Services about this time. I’d do pick ups and drop offs…and babysitting duties…they called it escorting and minding. I watched this girl who was looking to top herself whenever she had the chance…well that’s what that file said. She was just angry. We had a good rapport 🙂
So anyways, as I was extracting myself from the life I’d come to know, something else started to happen. I noticed large chunks of my hair falling out.
(First published 27th July 2015 @1132 … holy shizz 😉 )